


Like this start at the end again

by gloss



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Earth, Multi, Pansexual Character, Plural, Polyamory, Pride, Threesome - F/M/M, jedistormpilot, other minor pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged there by Finn and Rey, Poe attends his first Pride in a decade: <cite>They're both so excited for today that the least he can do is try not to be a complete cynical dick. </cite></p><p>(Earth AU, poly fluff)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like this start at the end again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixappleseeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/gifts).



> Title from Fifth Column, [Like This](https://youtu.be/TH5IhO33kbQ?list=PLC9UvFXN38xRHmHSaysakUwl0Mn5Zo3tr).
> 
> As well as fanfic, this is kind of a (highly conflicted) love letter to Toronto queer history & Pride, I guess? Thanks to sixappleseeds for the fabulous prompt (see end note), G. for the superfast beta, and I hope fluff is okay.

On the crosstown streetcar, Rey asks him when the last time he went to Pride was. Finn rolls his eyes, starts to complain (old and cranky, so old, so cranky), but Poe elbows him quiet. "Honestly can't even remember," he tells her. "Ten years? Longer?"

She grins and wrinkles up her nose, looks both amused and kind of grossed out, like he burped loudly.

Poe glances at Finn, who shrugs and says, "It's weird, man, that's all."

"It's not weird, it's just how --" He breaks off. Too easy to be _that_ guy, the one who knows better, who's seen it all.

He _is_ that guy, but he doesn't have to be quite so obvious.

They're both so excited for today that the least he can do is try not to be a complete cynical dick. 

"That's the parade," he adds, "I've been to _Pride_ stuff plenty."

Finn whispers in Rey's ear; she nods, giggles, glances at Poe, then grabs Finn's arm, yanking him close, and whispers something back.

"Fine," Poe says, to no one in particular. "This isn't exceptionally alienating _at all_."

Finn bumps him from behind and wraps an arm around Poe's waist, blowing a raspberry against the nape of his neck. "Sorry."

"You're not sorry," Poe says, going up on tiptoe to try to see if they're near their stop. He doesn't need to; everyone here looks like they're going to the same place. So many goddamn rainbow flags, it's like Lisa Frank exploded. "I bet you're not sorry at all."

Finn hauls him back, kisses his neck, and blows into his ear; in the buzzing, tingling rush of sensation, Poe forgets to pretend to be annoyed. "I'm really sorry."

Rey nods vigorously, agreeing, letting Finn do the emotion-thing.

"What were you even whispering about?" Poe asks, reaching past Rey to pull the stop request. "I can keep secrets. You can trust me."

Finn laughs long and loud at that, pushing Poe down the steps with one hand and pulling Rey with the other. He's still laughing as they hit the street.

"It's not that funny," Poe says, a little distractedly, trying to take in the size of the crowd without looking like a gape-mouthed tourist. He's lived here longer than some of these people have been alive. He _belongs_ , even if it's hard to actually believe that. "Fuck, there are a lot of people. Why are there so many people?"

Rey comes up on his other side, pressing against his back. "It's a major occasion."

So many people, nearly glowing under the intense sun, everyone sparkling with sweat _and_ sequins. (His first Pride, it rained and he only had BVDs on; they were transparent within ten minutes, which was fine, but they were also clammy as hell and uncomfortable.) There are little grannies setting up their camp chairs right at the edge of the parade route; and roving squads of teenagers with linked arms blowing on whistles for no discernible reason; and drag queens sweeping along, their beauty and dignity shrouding them from the worst of the clamor and chaos; a one-armed leatherman tanned the color of dried papaya strolling with his hooded slave, teetering in six-inch heels. And so many more, so many regular people weaving in and out, pointing, applauding, taking selfies. 

Poe gets the sudden, terrible notion that maybe the kids should be on some kind of rope system. Not a leash - not like that _very_ happy dude currently passing them, wagging his false tail - just something to hold onto so no one gets separated.

The rope: it's like the polyamorous leash, more options, less submission.

"Shit," he says.

It's the heat. That's all. His head is swimming suddenly and there's bright, sharp pain right in his sinuses.

"What?" Finn leans in, concerned and tense. "Did we miss it? The parade? It's not supposed to start til one."

"No, we're good."

"What's wrong, then?" Rey grabs Poe's chin and scans his face. "You can't have heat stroke already."

Poe disengages from both of them, then immediately regrets it and steps back. "I'm fine, I'm good, everybody chill."

They exchange A Look. He still doesn't know what all their looks mean; maybe they don't know, either. Sometimes, he'll ask - what're you two **saying** , anyway? \- and they'll profess innocence. Neither of them is any good at lying, so he usually believes them. There's just so much going on, all the time, and he's fairly sure he doesn't catch most of it.

"You don't have to come," Finn says, hand on Poe's arm. 

"We didn't mean to make you come," Rey says. 

Now he's twice as confused, but they're both looking at him like they _need_ something from him. They're kind, and generous, and blaming themselves for whatever stupid thought he's having.

"You didn't make me," Poe says slowly, looking at one, then the other, and back again. "I think I'm still able to move under my own power and make my own decisions."

Finn is, as usual, the first to smile and relax. He claps Poe's shoulder and squeezes lightly. It takes Rey a little longer; she's thinking it over, lip in her teeth, eyes squinting off somewhere over his shoulder.

A literal fairy - glittery wings, tutu, roller skates, gorgeous lumberjack-worthy beard - bumps into Rey then and Poe silently sends up thanks to all his brothers in the radical faeries, now and yesterday, and their everyday magic. 

Rey and Finn race off into the street fair. They know, it seems, about half the people in the crowd; Finn, at least, seems determined to meet the other half. Poe wanders a little behind them, hands in his back pockets, vaguely smiling at nothing in particular. If he just thinks of this as any other street festival - and god knows this city loves its street festivals, there's one every weekend from May to September - it's a good time. Everyone's smiling, there are some terrifically hot people, and the goods for sale are slightly more interesting than usual.

Rey finds Poe, slipping her hand into his, while he waits in line for roasted corn-on-the-cob. Finn is several steps away, hugging an old man in a scooter like they're long-lost comrades. They probably are.

"There really are a lot of people," she says so softly that Poe has to lean in.

"Huge," he says. "It wasn't ever like this --" _Not in my day_ , he saves himself from saying, barely.

"I like it," Rey announces, and he knows that this means she has been carefully, thoroughly, considering the matter and only now feels ready to render her opinion. 

"Really?" She doesn't exactly like living in the city, after all. Even their place out in the west end, on a grotty side street, is too loud for her most of the time.

"Not for every day, no," she says, then holds up a finger to put him on pause while she orders. "But for a special occasion? It's nice."

"Good," he says, lacing their fingers together. "I'm glad to hear it."

The grin she gives him is huge, anointed by the butter on her corn.

"There you are!" Finn bounds over to them as they perch on the edge of a building's standpipe to gnaw at their corn. He has a t-shirt in one hand, a bundle of churros in the other, and a fuchsia lei wrapped twice around his head like a crown. He tosses the shirt at Poe. "Got this for you."

He's almost afraid to look. What's it going to say, _Senior Citizens Do It Carefully. Very Carefully_? 

"Man," Finn adds, chewing on Rey's corn - they've switched now, and Rey is demolishing the packet of churros - "don't be so _suspicious_."

"Of course I'm suspicious," Poe tells him, shaking out the shirt and holding it up. "You whisper, you Look, you telepathically...do shit, what am I supposed to think?"

The shirt is entirely innocuous and actually truly amazing: a gray and green silkscreen of the cover of [**JD's** zine #3](http://archive.qzap.org/media/collectiveaccess_14/images/4/8320_ca_object_representation_multifiles_media_439_large_preview.jpg), complete with buxom biker babe.

"But this makes up for it," Poe adds, maybe too softly, because Finn's hugging him from behind again. "Thank you."

It's difficult, wandering three abreast through the press of the crowd, but Finn likes holding hands, and neither Poe nor Rey has any objection at all to that. No one in the crowd seems to have any specific destination. Most of the time, they might as well all be strands of kelp, caught in the surf, moving back and forth, a little further ahead each time.

Poe gives Rey his hat when the skin under her freckles starts glowing a strange, slightly irradiated pink. He wants to chide her for forgetting sunscreen, but Finn beats him to it. Finn _had_ taken off his shirt when they were all really packed into the crowd, but enough catcalls and weird, lecherous gropes drove him to put it back on.

"Must suck being so hot," Poe tells him and Finn just frowns at him.

They've made it almost to the end of the street fair - the noise of the parade is starting to make itself known, thumping and squealing, through the constant blare of bad disco and worse house - when Rey pulls away, convinced she sees someone she knows.

She dashes back, dragging a tall guy by the hand. This time it really is the sun and the heat addling him, because Poe should have recognized him anywhere. You don't forget one of your first real boyfriends.

"Miles," he says.

Miles looks half again as surprised as Poe feels. "This is a joke, right?"

Rey stops swinging Miles's hand. She looks back and forth between them, then over at Finn. Poe can't see Finn; he'd really like to be able to see Finn.

"What's a joke?" she asks.

Miles rubs his hand over the back of his cropped hair. " _This_ is your boyfriend?"

"One of them!" She's wearing that grin again, the one she and Finn somehow share, that's dazzling and thrilling and reassuring all at once. The one that usually means I can't believe it, either, a feeling (if not the expression) that Poe shares.

Now Poe can see Finn, because he's stepping up, joining them, maybe even crowding Miles just a little. "Rey, who is this?"

Rey lifts her chin. "He's one of my professors."

"He's my ex," Poe tells her, squeezing her shoulder. He can imagine all too well how this is going to go: She's a little young for you, isn't she? A little **female**? Miles smirks at him and Poe rocks back on his heels, hands back in his pockets. "We were --"

Finn grabs Poe's hand, tugging it from the pocket and squeezing tightly, then says to Miles, "Are you the jackass sculpture guy or the arrogant film one?"

He means which professor, but, Poe realizes, that _almost_ applies to his list of exes, too. Shit.

Miles just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head minutely. "Film. Nice to meet you. Miles Statura --" He offers Finn his hand, and Finn, being the nicest person in the greater metro area, shakes it.

It would be easier, Poe thinks, if Miles just came out and said what Poe _knows_ he's thinking. If this could play out like a soap opera and they could just scream at each other.

No, that's stupid. A little kid in a pink sundress runs past them, breaking up the tight little knot they've formed in the crowd; her parent lopes after her, shrugging apologies as the kid blows bubbles and spins around.

There didn't use to be this many kids, not that Poe remembers. Maybe his memory's faulty. There were always the few gay dads and lesbian moms, of course, and some supportive straight families, but this is really different. A good difference, unlike the bank-branded flags and stickers and tourists snapping pictures like they're at the zoo and the kibosh put on protesting Israeli apartheid (hence the keffiyeh around his neck). Kids are great; depoliticization, not so much.

He's got to have heat stroke; he's rapidly slipping into inanity.

Rey twines their arms together and rests her head against his shoulder as Finn and Miles talk about -- what the hell do they have to talk about? Finn's nowhere dumb enough to be an artist (wanna-be) like Poe and Rey. He likes to say he's art-adjacent. _Creative-curious_. He's got a real job (bartender) and a half (bookstore clerk), but film was never one of his things.

Then again, he's a great listener. He probably knows more, just from talking to people, than most of Rey's class; she's said as much about him concerning other topics, so why not film?

"What're they talking about?" Poe murmurs and Rey shrugs. He adjusts her hat and adds, "Sorry for freaking out."

"You didn't freak out," she says, gaze steady and calm. "Are you freaking out? You hide it well."

"Either I'm always freaking out," he says, "or never. I can't tell."

Nodding, she touches the side of his neck, his cheek, flicking away the sweat gathering on his upper lip. "Try never, it's better."

Poe's kissing a girl at Pride. _He's making out with his girlfriend at Pride._ This can't be right, except it is. 

"He's not so bad. Arrogant as hell, but a good guy," Finn says when he returns. He's wrapping his arms around them, tipping his head forward to meet theirs. "Arrogant and handsome's one of my biggest types, after all." Poe shoves him for that and, chuckling, Finn hauls them closer. "Let me in, _come on_."

The lei on his head rustles in the breeze, tickles Poe's forehead. Finn drops a kiss on Rey's mouth, then Poe's, before swinging them around toward the parade.

"But I do think you need to be a lot more forthcoming," Finn tells Poe. "Who've you tricked with? Who're exes? Spill, man."

"I --" It's not as long a list as these two seem to imagine.

"Her!" Rey shouts, pointing...somewhere. "I've slept with her."

He's expecting another art-school chick - no one else has Rey's particular genderqueer tomboy spunk, but, still, he's picturing an interesting dye job, undercut, ironic high-waisted mom shorts, possibly in a floral pattern. That sort of person who Rey seems to pick up without, quite, meaning to, who moons around their place for a couple weeks before either settling into friendship or vanishing, never to be seen again. 

"Oh, my god," Finn says and Poe can only nod.

Rey turns back to them, beaming. "What? Too old? She's _amazing_."

"Yeah," Poe says, hoarsely. "She is." 

He takes a breath, drawing himself up, as Leia fucking Organa threads her way through the crowd. Topless, tanned without a line in sight, she's dazzling in beads and gauze, she's half-earth mother, half-Carnival dancer, all in five feet of steel. The queen of the art scene, trailing sequins as she hugs old friends and shakes the hands of admirers, she's getting closer. Rey's _bouncing up and down_ , clapping a little, calling Leia's name.

"You're going to love her," Rey tells them. She's entirely ignorant of who's who, where power and influence fall; she just doesn't give a shit about any of that. It's a little unreal and a whole lot inspiring. "I've learned so much."

The hug Leia gives Rey is the opposite, the negation, of anything maternal. It's full, sincere, _desirous_ ; Finn's hand flexes in Poe's.

There are a million people here, but somehow the family is almost as small and intimate as ever. New faces, sure, but the familiarity remains.

Later that night, almost morning - there's silver on the horizon - they're lying on their backs in the park, sharing a joint and making up names for constellations they can't even see. They parted ways a couple times over the last several hours, met back up, and again, and again. They're all sticky with half a day's worth of sweat; Rey's hair is damp, Poe's keffiyeh is a little soggy, and Finn relented and went topless again. And now they're back together, new hickeys and newer stories, and Poe has to admit this wasn't nearly so bad. 

That first Pride, he tells them, a rainbow came out at the end of the storm. He _got_ it then, suddenly understood in a blaze of insight no doubt facilitated by the x and alcohol coursing through him, that there are a thousand thousand ways to be, caught in a single raindrop, split and made visible by the light.

They laugh at him, a little, kindly, and bury their faces against his neck, nuzzling, holding hands over his chest. Poe snugs his arms around them, the roach on his lips dimming, then glowing, as he breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt: au pride prompt: it's finn and rey's first pride parade, first pride week tbh, and poe hasn't watched the parade in years (whoa sure is rly corporate now?) and suddenly there's ... wait is that the general??


End file.
